Magpie
by thejokirliveson
Summary: Another cute Destiel oneshot, from yours truly. Title is explains itself...


JoKir: Another Supernatural one-shot from yours truly… I really do love Destiel in all its forms. Enjoy the one-shot!

Magpie

Dean didn't know where all this was coming from... honest! If he didn't know any better, he would think it was Sam trying to prank him again. But Sam swore black and blue that it wasn't him, and deep down Dean knew it to be true. So he had to find the real culprit. However the only clue he had – well, more like clues – were the unrelated items occasionally left on his bed. Sometimes it was a strange-shaped rock or an interesting feather. Other times it was a freshly picked and pressed flower that, while pretty, made no sense. Every so often it was some sort of trash and shiny or not, it was still trash. Yet Dean kept it all…

The start of his investigation didn't change the fact that items were still laid upon his bed. Dean found himself grateful for the extras clues, for the older ones were giving him a large amount of diddly-squat. That morning the clue was a smooth, black river stone. Not important in anything, just pretty. Dean looked it over for a few more moments before showing it to Sam.  
"Does this look familiar to you?" he asked.  
"Uh, like every other river stone I've ever seen?" Sam answered, bitch-face starting. Dean slowly nodded his head.  
"So I was right, no magical importance or anything…" Dean sighed. Sam shook his head and turned back to his laptop. So Dean turned back to the makeshift box holding his collection. So far he had another smooth stone – this one grey –that was a bit smaller than the one he was holding, a long blue-grey feather, a short brown feather, a beer cap with an interesting design, a pressed daisy and a red ribbon. Dean wasn't sure about the ribbon either… Shrugging, he moved away to grab a beer and ponder this.

Later in the day, a small grass twist bracelet lay upon his bed. It wasn't neatly or professionally done and dried, like the one you bought in stores or stalls at a fair. It looked like someone fiddling while they thought, doing it on auto-pilot. Hell, the grass was still green: this was fresh. Dean noticed it was just a tiny bit too tight and so struggled over the widest part of his hand. It was obviously made for an ever-so-slightly smaller wrist. Maybe that gave him a clue…? He hoped so, because the other "clues" weren't helping at all!  
"Sam? A lot of girls would tend to have skinny wrist right?" Dean threw over his shoulder.  
"Uh, yeah… most girls probably do…" Sam answered, looking up from his laptop where he was searching for a case. They'd been stuck in the same town for quite some time now and it seemed like they would be stuck for longer. So Sam was trying to keep them busy.  
"So a bracelet that is made to fit the maker's wrist, that also fits me, would probably be a man, not a woman," Dean stated, staring at the grass bracelet. Sam nodded, back to his searching. Dean nodded also, mentally narrowing down his own search…

Over the next few days, Sam and Dean invested themselves within another case, this one a haunting on the far side of town. But each night, when they returned to the hotel, Dean found a trinket lying on his bed. First another stone –this one a jagged white one that looked like it contained crystal- then, following the rock, a pressed sunflower and then, following the pressed flower, a long black-blue feather. Dean studied them, looking both at them and for clues. Something about the feather seemed familiar … but he couldn't place it. He placed all of the extras in the draw of his bedside table, which was filling quickly. He thought he might have to find a container for them for when he moved as he fell asleep on his bed…

As it was, when he awoke in the morning, a wooden box, beautifully carved, was sitting at the end of his bed. Dean already knew its intended use. He careful laid each knick-knack into the box, examining each one until he stopped on the long black-blue feather. It then hit him exactly why this feather looked so familiar… Castiel! Dean looked around for Sam and then remembered he'd gone for a jog to remove the stiffness from the hunting the day before. Dean closed his eyes and went to call Castiel, but was interrupted by a deep, gruff voice.  
"Hello Dean."  
"Cas," Dean sighed. "Was this you? These…"  
"Yes." It was wary-one-word-answer-for-no obvious-reason time. Great.  
"Why?" Dean asked. Castiel tilted his head and blinked too-blue eyes.  
"It was said that if you love someone you gave them trinkets of affection. I picked pieces of things that reminded me of you." Castiel sounded so blunt and matter-of-fact Dean had to blink a few times.  
"Trinkets of affection… I could go to a special level of hell for this Cas…" Castiel shrugged.  
"I'd go with you for starting it…" Castiel replied, shrugging once more, like it didn't matter to him where he was exactly. There were no "I love you"s or big love confessions. Just a few more traded jokes, most flying over Castiel's head, and smiles. Castiel then held out his hand. It was a fluffy, midnight blue downy feather from his own wings. Dean took it and placed it in the box with all the others after stroking it a few times. Dean smiled his gratitude and Castiel answered with a nod…

Dean was afraid of Castiel losing more than his Grace when he fell… what if Castiel wasn't _Castiel_ anymore? But the moment he saw the old wooden box laying on his bed in the bunker with a new grass bracelet, this one with midnight blue bead threaded on, on top of it was the moment Dean knew that Castiel was still _Castiel_… and still a magpie…


End file.
